


nothing short of theatrical

by m_nemonica (gamblers)



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Cars, M/M, Science Fiction, Slice of Life, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamblers/pseuds/m_nemonica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mental health week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing short of theatrical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sashjun](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sashjun).



> **supplementary warnings:** borderline-pessimism, bits of artsy-fartsy nonsense here and there,  i.e. please don't take parts of this story too seriously because i'm really only kidding
> 
> originally posted [here](http://je-holiday.livejournal.com/154645.html) for je_holiday 2012.

*

The rain from Tokyo stayed mostly inside the train, and left to their own devices, the occupants of the compartment each pretended not to notice the alarming amount of residue precipitation spelling out the date for the end of the world. There were the small puddles that the children without rainboots left near the lavatory doors, the wisps of blueish steam scraped from the starched lapels of the train attendants, and the plexi-glass window pane on Ueda's side of the aisle that remained clear as day, smoothed over by an unfortunate lack of central heating. An engineering failure, perhaps. The moisture in the air was thick and he could feel it seep through his clothes through his skin through his bones, each individual raindrop layered and musical and reassuredly unforgiving.

His cell buzzed. Passenger-san to his left looked up from his sports magazine and coughed. It was a stifled cough that left the memory of a cough in its place, and Ueda was immediately irritated by it.

 _Look out the window, Ueda-kun_ , said the text, _Isn't it beautiful outside?_

He stretched his legs, smiled wanly, and texted back. _fuck you too, nakamaru._

*

It was supposed to be some sort of promotional concert thing for three-fifths of their new single CD; they were supposed to do a small segment after an Arashi performance and Kame and Junno were supposed to come with and try to be relevant in some shape or form via electric guitar, but of course they'd both taken the blue pill one week ahead of time, cited Miscellaneous Scheduling Conflicts, and in the end Ueda was the only one who ended up making the trip to Osaka, riding a train with a bunch of miserable rainclouds tucked behind his ears.

"Maybe you'll meet a pretty girl on the train, ne," Junno had patted Ueda on the back, happy to have escaped another hazardous occupational responsibility. "Maybe you'll meet her and save her from some old salaryman's sexual harrassment, go ham on his dick, and then you'll become like densha otoko number four."

"Because he really needs that," Kamenashi said loudly. "He really needs to give me reason to file the paperwork for another defense attorney."

"Don't be too hard on Ueda," Nakamaru sighed. "You guys are the ones ditching his sorry ass, after all. It sucks even more that he has to ride the train."

"What?" said Ueda. "I have to ride the train? Where'd you hear that one?"

"Company policy. For a low-profile business trip like this one, parties travelling with less than four people are prohibited from employing the company airline."

" _Motherfucker_. So that's why you guys backed out of the deal."

Kame shrugged. Junno stuck out his tongue.

There'd been no more time for informal caucus, after that. Their manager showed up to the rehearsal room and the next thing he knew, Ueda was on a shitty platform, squeezing past throngs of shitty commoners, shitty ticket stub in his hand.

*

At the end of the line, Nishikido Ryo was there to meet him.

In the past, Ueda had always imagined some special kind of hell that involved meeting Nishikido Ryo at the end of a train platform. Nishikido would be soaking wet and possibly wearing a sparkly outfit with feathers, like the one he had on for his last concert in Okinawa. In the sky there would be giant mecha robots flying around with lasers shooting from their eye sockets, similar to the IFOs in the new _Eureka 7_ show, and ideally they would be under the control of a largely self-servicing hegemony, divided between the Chinese and the American government. The train would pull away from the station platform and Ueda would be left with nowhere to go, battered suitcase in one hand. At this point in the scenario Nishikido would be undergoing a curious metamorphosis that would change his physical appearance from regular Nishikido to supervillain Nishikido, complete with a hooked nose and dirty fingernails. Large warts would cover and disfigure his ruggedly handsome face. He would then offer Ueda a hand in carrying his luggage into hell, and if Ueda refused then Nishikido would subdue him in a manner that would be neither considered polite nor impolite. In the end, Ueda would have already gathered and implemented the necessary tools to forge his escape; he would find salvation at a police box and live out the rest of his life in the basement of Nakamaru's apartment in Shibuya.

In theory, anyway.

"Let me give you a hand," said Nishikido, reaching for the handle of Ueda's suitcase.

He made a small movement, squirmed, ran a hand through his hair. It was wet. "It's OK," he said quietly, clenching the handle tight. "I've got it."

Nishikido raised his eyebrows. "Hey, I'm just trying to be helpful."

"I really don't need it."

"If you say so," said Nishikido. "Um. It's nice to see you again."

"...Yeah. It's been a while, Nishikido-san."

It was raining outside the station, and they made their way into a nearby parking structure. The peak of rush-hour had ended, and only the long-distance transferring passengers were left wandering around the husky streets. Nishikido reached inside his pants pocket for his car keys. "I'm sorry they couldn't offer you better accomodations, coming here. Economy's been tanking, you know. All of us are doing pro bono shit for the office."

"I see."

They found Ryo's car. He opened the trunk and Ueda lifted his suitcase into it. "Everyone was busy and I had a day off so they requested for me to be your personal chauffeur. Manager-san said it would be good for you to see a familiar face. Think of it as a consolation prize for having you ride the shitty train here."

"I wouldn't really call it a prize," he muttered, but not quietly enough that Nishikido didn't hear him. "I mean, t-that's really nice of them."

Ryo didn't say anything. He opened the car door for Ueda and got in on the other side. When the doors slammed closed on both sides, he slid his keys into the ignition. There was a moment of silence and Ueda mourned for the mecha IFOs in the sky.

"You know," said Ryo.

"Yes?"

"I've changed."

He fastened his seatbelt. "So has everyone. What else is new?"

Ryo sighed. "I know you've never cared for me very much as a person, but it couldn't hurt you to be a little more courteous. Kind of painful, trying to carry on a conversation by myself."

"I'm sorry," said Ueda, and he was actually sorry. He fiddled with his seatbelt. "I didn't realize you cared about me enough for this to matter."

Ryo ignored the jab and started the car. "For example, you could look at me when we're talking to each other."

"You could look at me, too," said Ueda.

Nishikido let out a small laugh. "I'm driving. Really don't want to risk another high-profile car accident."

He had aged since the last time Ueda had seen him. There were heavier bags under his eyes and his hair was only slightly messy, styled to the side. His skin was pale and his lips were dry. A cashmere scarf was wound around his neck, and although the scarf looked very warm, Nishikido did not look very warm at all. He was reaching that particular time in his life where it would have been difficult for a normal Japanese male of equivalent age to find a marriage-appropriate girlfriend at a group date. He was still remarkably attractive, and remained a likely target for many of his stalking fans, but he was older. He was an older, perhaps more mature Nishikido. The idea alone was enough to make Ueda nauseous.

He considered defeat. Considered crying wolf. Considered putting his feet up on Ryo's dashboard, even, but he wasn't brave enough, not like Koki. Smiled instead. "I'll admit, Nishikido-san, you've always been rather intimidating to me."

"Call me Ryo," Nishikido grunted. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and stepped on the gas pedal. "You can't be intimidated by me forever, Ueda."

They drove the rest of the way in moderate silence. Ryo turned on the radio and said things without understanding any of it, made statements without backing them up, told jokes that neither of them laughed at. He dropped Ueda off in front of the lobby of the hotel, promised that he'd be there the next day, and left without saying goodbye.

*

_How are you doing?_ , said the text, _Honestly I feel kind of bad for not going with you._

He let out a small sigh and sat back down on the hotel bed. _oh dont worry about me. things are going pleasantly. nishikido ryo is my personal rent boy and i can see mecha robots in the sky. absolutely wonderful shit is happening_

His phone buzzed twenty seconds after he hit SEND. _Stop trying to be ironic._

He bit back a small laugh and messaged Nakamaru back. _youre one jumpy bastard... i'll bring you back some candy. <3_

*

Ryo came around the next morning as promised, his mood brightened significantly by three cups of Americano and a pack of mint gum. He rung up Ueda's hotel room from the lobby at 10 am and waited patiently for the receptionist to finish sharing with him all about the details of her niece's personal life, a girl who was apparently employed as a freelance seiyuu, in her early 20s, and also attractive enough to rival Toda Erika.

"Isn't that wonderful," Ueda heard Ryo say, as the doors of the elevator opened into full view of the front desk. "I'm sure you must be very proud of her."

The lady beamed. "I have some photos, if you'd like to see them!"

Ryo raised his head and caught Ueda's eyes. "That would be wonderful, but please excuse me for now. I'll be here in a few days again, Miyamoto-san, so you can show me then." His smile was bright.

"You don't have to be so kind to them," said Ueda, in the car. "No cameras here for you."

"Pays to be nice sometimes, that's all," said Ryo. "Don't know the next time I'll actually see her--they work different shifts all the time, you know, so it's not like I'm in any danger of raising her hopes. She knows it too." He started his car.

"Still," said Ueda.

"Still?"

"Still."

The roads were clean. It had rained overnight and the sky was overcast in a upbeat sort of way. A junior high school nearby had let out early for lunch break, and navy blue uniforms were thrown into the fro of late-morning stragglers shuffling about the crosswalks near the hotel, searching for dropped coins in the sidewalks. Traffic going into the city was terrifically stagnant, as was standard, Ryo explained, and they inched along the street on soft wheels.

"When is the sponsorship concert?" asked Ryo.

"Two days from now."

"Prepared for it?"

"Decently. I'm just doing stuff from the same B-side that I co-wrote with Taguchi. Not too steep of a learning curve there."

"I see. How long will you be staying here, then?"

"I'm leaving by the end of this week."

"Afraid you won't be getting any encores?"

Ueda rolled his eyes. "Not even. The train tickets are already booked for Saturday."

"So you'll have time for dinner on Friday, then?"

"I guess...wait, what do you mean by that?"

It was suddenly very calm. Ueda felt a wave of calmness enter his head, and it was only peculiar because the windows were rolled up and the heat was turned off and the piles of people on the crosswalks didn't bother to check their watches. Ryo gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes on the road. The car inched forward. It became awkward.

"Dinner," said Ryo. "Friday."

"Right," said Ueda. "Friday."

*

The concert went by without any hiccups, its conclusion further anticlimatized by his solo appearance. Luckily, he was only doing a small segment, and Ohno's hip rolls had been there to salvage what was left of his lackluster performance.The fans hadn't found much fault to it, anyway, girls who would buy their CDs would continue to buy their CDs, and over the years Ueda had realized just how much of a niche market their music had fallen into. It was pointless trying to aggravate himself over something that was nonsensical like this. He had faith in his fans. He smiled a lot. He sang until his lungs were sore and exited the stage while the fake snowflakes continued to fall on the baby grand.

"It was a very solid performance, Ueda," Sakurai told him, backstage. "You put a lot of effort into it, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Thank you. I've been trying very hard."

"Hey, why don't you come have dinner with us on Friday? Before we leave town for the live in Tokyo."

He opened his mouth to make up an excuse, but someone had spoken up behind him. "No can do, Sho-chan, he's spoken for."

"What do you mean," said Sho, just as Ueda turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. "He's spoken for?"

"Nothing," Ueda said quickly. "He doesn't mean anything."

Ninomiya grinned. "Our luck's run out, Sho-chan. Ueda's scheduled for a dinner date with Nishiki on Friday."

"It's _not_ a date," said Ueda.

"Sure it isn't," said Nino. He continued to grin like an idiot. "He just asked you out and made reservations at an Italian place near Shinsaibashi. That's definitely not a date."

"It's not," Ueda insisted. "He said he was just accompanying me for the week."

Sho raised his eyebrows. "Didn't know this was a thing already."

"What do you mean he was 'just accompanying you for the week', huh," said Ninomiya. He puffed out his chest and glared at Ueda. "He took ten days off his activities and spent all of last week pandering to management before they let him come pick you up at the train station. Cried to me on the phone about it and everything. These are real sacrifices being made by real men, Ueda."

*

" _These are real sacrifices being made by real men,_ " said Ueda, slamming his hands down on the table.

"Pardon me?" said Ryo, looking up from the menu. "Didn't catch what you said."

"Just what I heard from Ninomiya-san. What do you want from me?"

There wasn't much that Ueda required from the world. He asked for patience regularly, and left the other unresolved plotlines up to entropy. The systems recognized his solidarity and rewarded him with his patience and he let the ideas empty from his head, the rain continued to stay in the train compartment and the IFOs continued to surf across the clouds. It was all very organized, very well done, shot at the most aesthetically-pleasing angles, good games were called on both sides. This was certainly nonfiction.

Ryo put down the menu and Ueda watched the thoughts parade in a cloud above his head, probably something to do with the five stages of grief, ending with resignation. It was like trying to hold an intervention.

"I'm not sure what you heard exactly," Ryo finally said, "but I just want you to know." He paused.

Ueda pulled out his chair and sat down at the table. "What do you want me to know."

"...That I don't really know what I'm doing," said Ryo. "But I wanted to try it anyway. Because I thought it would be nice. It can get lonely sometimes." His voice was thin and unhappy and his face was pale and he had aged over time without a doubt but somewhere in there, Ueda could see that he was trying, he really was.

"I get that," said Ueda, and he pressed his lips together. He wasn't really sure what to say next.

"We talked before, that one time," said Ryo. "You probably don't even remember. It was after Jin left your group, and you were still a bit of a nut case, but we just talked. Straight-up bro talk, you know? And then I couldn't stop thinking about it. Talking to you. It was really strange to begin with, but then it just continued. I didn't try to stop myself. Like, even after I moved away permanently from Tokyo, it didn't stop."

"..."

"I-I'm honestly not sure if I even love you. But I think I like you quite a bit."

"This is the weirdest confession ever," said Ueda. He picked up the menu and examined the pretty illustrations on the front. "I never knew you could be so weird."

"I know, I'm sorry," said Ryo. "If I fucked this up already, you can ditch me right here."

Ueda looked at him. It was all laid out there now, he could already imagine it, ten days of making real sacrifices like a real man and being nice to the receptionist at the front desk, ten days of Nishikido Ryo's life that he could never take back. What a tremendously douchebaggy way of making him feel guilty as all hell. Ueda contemplated giving him a high-five. (Or perhaps a kiss? He wasn't sure if the context was really correct.)

He smiled instead. "I think I'll stay. I can't be intimidated by you forever, after all."

*

  
  _How was the dinner?_ , said the text, _I hope you didn't murder anybody._

_it was nice. very enlightening_

*

The sunlight from Osaka stayed mostly inside the train, but given the difficulty with which he'd apprehended the attendant in an effort to wipe off the stains on his windows, it wasn't too hard to see the parallels between his arrival to and departure from this special kind of hell. The end of the world had come and gone, and he'd arrived on the other side of it fairly unblemished and content with his life. There was the kiss that he'd let Nishikido give him at the end of the night, the small smile that he'd shared with Miyamoto-san at the front desk, the small particles of happiness that he'd scraped from the station's ceilings to take back with him to Tokyo. All of them had conveyed to him similar messages--that perhaps it wasn't so bad. Perhaps nothing in the world was that bad.

His cell buzzed. He answered on the second ring.

"So when are you coming to Tokyo?"

"Give me two weeks. Take a look out the window."

"Yeah. It's beautiful outside."

*  
the end.


End file.
